


In Between The Beginning And The End

by SkippingStone



Category: Cabin Pressure, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-05
Updated: 2013-03-14
Packaged: 2017-12-04 09:57:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/709461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkippingStone/pseuds/SkippingStone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A record of the few times Molly and Sherlock meet in the three years of Sherlocks absence. It starts the night Sherlock asks for Molly’s help and ends the night he tells her that it is over, that he won’t need her anymore. A promise is made at both occasions but only one can be kept, though this story is about the promise Sherlock could not keep (no matter how hard he intented to keep it...) and the people which were hurt in the process.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. January 2015 – The End

 

This is a record of the few times Molly and Sherlock meet in the three years of Sherlocks absence. It starts the night Sherlock asks for Molly’s help and ends the night he tells her that it is over, that he won’t need her anymore. He made a promise at both occasions. The first time around he promised her that one day everything would be back to normal, that he will make it out alive and that they all will be safe again. It was a hard promise to keep back then but nothing compared to the effort needed for that second promise to keep, to never need her again - ever. But it was the challenge Sherlock really loved, it was always that way. And this is not about the second promise anyway, this is about the time in between those two significant nights in which the two promises were made... and the people Molly met, those who helped her through the harder times.  
The second promise is a different story, really.

 

January 2015 – The End  
She was all over his skin, her smell, her touch, her body. She was in his mind, her eyes, her voice, her softly spoken words of painful truth. He needed to get her out of his system. Now. He told her, he won’t need her anymore and that was what he needed to convince his body of, his nervous system, his throbbing cock. He hasted trough the rain, the bitter cold rain. It was the beginning of Januarys and with it came the end of his self-imposed exile. Finally his life as a free man could begin once again, he could end the life he led in the last three years, stop being the person he had become over the last three years. He never wanted to be this man again but couldn’t go back to his old life. It was simply not possible and this was where all his problems started and ended at the same time.  
He needed a clean break... from everything. And he wanted to start now, right from the moment he stepped out of the cab, back into the icy rain. He wanted to breath deep, calm down from all the unnecessary hormones running through his veins. He needed to get a clear head. But then again he needed to fuck Molly. Now. He hated his body. His body brought him into this whole situation in the first place. No, Molly brought him into all this in the first place. Her body and her skin and her smell. It drove him mad, another minute more and he would defiantly become mad.  
Taking the steps up into his hotel room everything became too much. His head started spinning and her voice in his head simply wouldn’t calm down, she screamed at him in anger and then again in lust and heat. In between came the scenes of earlier this evening, Molly begging him to over think over his decision, screaming words of hate at him for letting her fall, for finally destroying what little of her life was still intact, in between all that dropped old memories from days long forgotten. Of them making love on every available surface of her flat... of him discovering her body... making her scream in pleasure, kissing her skin, touching her... fucking her against the front door of her new flat. He was high from months of unreleased need, from memories of what would never be reality again. He already went too far. Molly was right, he had destroyed her life and he could do nothing to undo his fault.  
Reaching his hotel room, he ripped his clothes from his body, some buttons fell to the floor, he bashed his shoes against the wall. What would he give for some coke, a cap of M maybe... or a lot of it really. A real overdose, one he could control. What a paradox his life had become. Pathetic – how absurdly pathetic. He turned the shower on, and the moment the water reached his skin his hand clasped his hard penis. And this was the moment he lost every last bit of control, no matter how hard he tried to picture someone else or really nothing at all, just in order to simply get rid of the pressure, to finally release and get over it - she was there, too close and too real. He tried to imagine her hate and all the pain but it made everything just worse. And when he knew that he was close he bit his lip hard, trying to keep silent, to not lose a sound over this humiliation. But no amount of force or the blood leaking from his bottom lip stopped her name from slipping when he forcefully came.


	2. March 2012 – The Beginning (Part 1)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that what I have done in this chapter is boring and overdone by now but I feel like it is importent so here we are: Have fun :)

March 2012 – The Beginning (Part 1)

“What do you need?” she asked, willing to do everything. She actually was and she knew it the moment the words left her mouth, even though in the same second she began to doubt her sanity. Right now she would jump in front of a train, she wouldn’t blink and doing the wrong thing hadn't crossed her mind. Right in this moment she felt the whole impact of who she was and what she felt but most of all she was never so sure of herself and of the person she could be right in this moment, the only question was could she trust herself enough to start being this person. It felt so very easy right now, so she started right now. She could feel it flow her body, she felt it in the back of her legs.  
It all passed her in this small blink of an eye before he answered: “You”, and she was done.... one hundred percent done. She had no response to that, not right now away. So she stood there, staring at him and he didn’t show any kind of impatience, he simply stared back and waited as if his life depended on her answer... though really; wasn’t that exactly the point? At least that was what she was able to comprehend in the last few seconds since he decided to frighten her to death by stepping out of the dark like some kind of a figure from a nightmare. 

“Me?” Actually she couldn’t think of anything else and to her own surprise she didn’t feel embarrassed as she usually did. She hoped this wasn’t some kind of a cruel joke and that he was as serious as he looked... as the shadow in his eyes indicated. 

“Yes, actually I think you are the only one able to make my plan work.” He took the last step into her direction and laid both hands on each of her shoulders, his stare became even more intensive if possible. He asked her if she would be able to go through with everything he asked of her, starting with lying to every one of their shared friends and beyond to every person who demanded an answer of her in the future.. And while she was in no way close to understanding what her agreeing to this request meant for her future, she didn’t think a second about her answer. Not sensing that this promise would one day seal their fate. 

In this night another promise were made. While Sherlock moved over her body, driving into her at divine pace, her legs clinging around his waist. He mumbled into her ear that he would come back and that he would make sure that they all would be safe again. He would make that happen and she would be able to forget all the things Jim did to her and her soul and their friends.  
Everything would go back to normal. 

The thing though,( and Molly should have known right in that moment that this night was the beginning of one big illusion,) was that there was no normal condition ever defined concerning Sherlock and her. And him fucking her in her small bedroom wasn’t making the situation any better, really. All it did was making matters more complicated than they were to begin with. They might have finally come to an understanding of each other’s needs but that was about it. Sherlock knew long before that she had some unreasonable feelings for him - and for Molly finally being assured that Sherlock was indeed, at least, a bit human, with human needs and human ability beyond eating and breathing wasn’t a foundation for anything at all. 

It was nice anyway. Sherlock knew what he was doing and Molly didn’t want to know why, she really didn’t. His hands where pure magic and his tongue was phenomenally talented, he drove her crazy, made her scream as no man did before him, she never was a screamer, always the silent one with some purring at the point when she couldn’t stand the pressure anymore. But what Sherlock did to her was unbelievable and the sounds he made, she was sure she would never be able to forget them, ever.

Sherlock Holmes died the next day. She signed his death certificate, destroyed any evidence there was of him being alive, she paid off the homeless network and brought Sherlock's mobile (which she stole from the crime scene moments after he jumped) to the safe deposit box as Sherlock had asked her to do. 

The first person she needed to lie to was Mycroft Holmes, even though she wasn’t sure if he knew she was lying, (it was a possibility but not one she was willing to contemplate). Sherlock didn’t tell her if there was anyone else that knew he was alive. But she told herself that she was downright good at lying if the need called for it and in this moment and hundreds to come, it actually did. She told Mycroft the story she and Sherlock agreed on, with a fake smile on her sad face and a real tear threatening to fall. 

Two days later an invitation was in her post - the invitation to his funeral. He had given her strict instructions for it, he even went for her wardrobe to find her something to wear. Really did he think she wasn’t perfectly capable of doing that herself. After all she was a grown woman and this would not be her first funeral... It happened about one hour before dawn, before he left her and went back to Bart’s in order to put his plan into action. She had protested but he insisted on doing it and so after five minutes of awkwardly trying to push him away from her chaotic wardrobe she sunk back on her bed and watched on. She listened to him telling her to cry, not in the beginning but somewhere around the point when one of their friends would make a move to say something. All the while he put a variation of a black dress, (not the one from the Christmas party, god no – he left that one untouched), and a dark-grey cardigan beside her on the mashed up blanked, he even went for a bra and pair of tights (god he even checked them for ladders). When he put everything together he looked at her and told her to wear the same coat as last year’s Christmas – they broke eye contact the same second. Why Sherlock did, what he did in those last thirty-five minutes before he left Molly would never know.


	3. March 2012 – The Beginning (Part 2)

March 2012 – The Beginning (Part 2)

What he had forgotten to mention was that there was his family to expect; not only his mother, whom he told her of while deciding between the dark-gray and the black cardigan.  
She tried her best to hide. Even though she knew perfectly well that no one knew her besides John and Mrs. Hudson. But there was no need to fear their attention because they were both so deeply wrapped up in grief that she could hug them and they would not notice, John especially. The feeling of betraying each person in this graveyard made her go weak in her knees and again and again she needed to force away the thought of Sherlock making her go to the funeral at all. After all she had agreed on all terms and now she had to go through with it. 

Never the less this was the last place on earth she wanted to be. So she kept in the shadow, her eyes on John and Mrs. Hudson and occasionally she glanced to the people in the first row where the family was supposed to be seated. Most likely the family was seated there because Mycroft was with them and he was Sherlocks brother so it was safe to assume the people there were relatives as well. But she didn’t want to know them. She didn’t want to know who his mother was, if his father was there or whom of the younger people were cousins or even siblings. On the other hand she was pretty sure he had no other siblings, someone would have mentioned it at some point. 

No matter how hard she tried to stop thinking about stuff like that, hundreds of thoughts ran through her mind. She wondered what Sherlock was doing right now, where he was, if he was well and still going strong. She remembered him telling her to cry but she felt stupid doing it just because he told her so. Her inside screamed for release and that was the only reason why finally tears started to run down her face. It happened in the moment a young girl from the first row stood up and changed places with a man she didn’t know and whose speech she simply missed while being stuck in her rambling mind. She wanted to focus this time but only managed to catch a bit. She concentrated again on John and Mrs. Hudson, sitting three rows in front of her on the other side of the aisle. They were the only ones sitting in this particular row, many rows were empty – not many people choose to attend the funeral - not after the headlines. Anyway, Mrs. Hudson was crying desperately into her handkerchief while clasping John’s hand, while John set there passively, like he was simply waiting for this ordeal to be over. He probably did but then so was she though there was a difference, John and her were in complete different positions and she should not be allowed to compare her pain with his. So she stopped.

From then on silent tears continued to run down her face while she fixated on point in front of her which she didn’t look up from until there was subtle movement around her. For a small moment she was not sure what to do, she had decided not to attend the burial and Sherlock had approved. So she didn’t know whether she should wait for the mass to leave but then this was not the best idea as it were the people planning to stay for the burial would be the ones to stay behind. Why couldn’t she remember how things like this were supposed to work? What was the most appropriate thing to do when all she had in mind was to not make eye contact with anyone. 

In the end she abruptly stood and was glad to see that John and Mrs. Hudson already left. She tried to blend in with all the people leaving with her and she soon believed herself to be safe. She checked the time and internally planned the way home, John and Mrs. Hudson where at least thirty feet in front of her, if she simply went a bit slower they would not notice her. She made it.

At least that was what she thought when suddenly, just as she reached the last of the steps in front of the church, there was a voice behind her. For a moment she assumed that it was a mistake and it was meant for someone else, but her name was quietly called and a hand reached for her shoulder. 

“Excuse me Miss, I am really sorry, I am – “, Molly turned around to the voice. It was his voice but not with the usual tone and then she looked up and he was there but he wasn’t. Adrenalin was set free but then there was something wrong and she ordered herself to calm down, to stay cool. She needed to be in control of this situation. This was not Sherlock. 

“I didn’t want to keep you from... My name is Martin, I am... I am - Sherlock is my... was my... is brother – half brother, I mean – Oh god I need to calm down.” Molly was taken aback. Her mind was blank and she simply stared at the man standing in front of her. He was trying to take a breath but the moment he did, tears threaten to fall and he tipped his head back for a moment, doing everything to control his emotions. He started to silently mumble, it was hard to understand but it was something along the lines of ‘oh my god’ and ‘he is dead, oh my dear god please I need to...’, but after a short moment he began to talk again. 

Molly though was still not able to say a word, she was not even sure if she understood the words that were said. A brother, he was Sherlocks brother. It was like the universe shifted under her feet, not because of the fact but because of the situation she was in, a situation Sherlock didn’t prepared her for. Silently she cursed him. What was he thinking and why didn’t he figure this could happen, after all Sherlock knew everything. But no matter how furious she thought she was in this moment, she needed to take a deep breath and focus on this man before her, listen to what he said right now. She needed to! 

“... you see Mycroft told me you worked with him and I thought maybe we could meet for a cup of tea?” 

Why did he want to meet for tea? Molly bit her lip and searched for an answer, she tried really hard to remember what he had said before she made herself listen to him. But no matter how hard she tried it was useless. She starred at him, his left hand in his hair and this lost and sad look in his eyes. There was no way she could say no, nevertheless it was hard to form an appropriate answer, one which left options for her but right in the moment Molly thought she had found such an answer, he began to stutter ahead.

“I, I am so sorry, of course not... what was I thinking... It was just, you see I wanted to know more about... but I understand that this was a stupid idea. I will just turn around and leave just forget I asked!” And right in this moment he indeed turned around on his heels and walked back up the stairs.

Now Molly was lost. For a moment everything became too much and she was glad he left. She wouldn’t need to make conversation when all she wanted was to leave and go home. After all she still needed to get rid of the mess Sherlock made in her flat before he left three days ago and oh dear god, she needed to start forgetting. Soon.  
But she could not leave that man in this state. It was wrong to let him believe that she thought low of him so she called out.

“No, no please, wait. It's okay, I'd really like to meet you! How about you leave me your number and I'll call you when... when all this uproar in the media is over?”  
For a moment there was no response and now Molly thought that maybe it stupid to make such an open ended offer. She didn’t know this man.

“Oh, of course! Thank you, seriously, thank you so much!” He walked back down the stairs and took out his wallet, for a moment he hesitated but then he offered her a business card.

“My mobile number's on there. Sometimes I won't be able to take the phone call. Just leave a message and I'll call you back.” Molly took the card without looking at it, she simply put it in her small purse.

“I promise I will call as soon as possible!” she said while she offered him a handshake.

“Thank you.” He simply answered and this time when he turned back and walked up the stairs he didn’t turn back around. For a moment Molly stood alone, white as a sheet. Everyone else was gone and the funeral party had left through the back entrance of the church for the graveyard.

She had to put her shaking hand in front of her mouth to prevent a scream of agony threatening to leave here throat. She was commanding herself to stay calm, willing the tears from her eyes and leaving this place, never to come back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really hope Martin made a good first impression!
> 
> Also a great hug and a lovely thanks to those who added my story to favorites etc. I am very exited :)

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you a lot for reading! I hope you liked it :)


End file.
